


Meet me under the Mistletoe

by jalapeno_jazz



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 12:05:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17080043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jalapeno_jazz/pseuds/jalapeno_jazz
Summary: Created for Strictly Dramione's 2018 Yuletide Magic FestDraco is a man with a plan...or so he thinks.





	Meet me under the Mistletoe

 

As predicaments went he was sure it could be worse, although the longer he pondered it, he wasn’t quite sure how.

Draco tried yet again to _Accio_ his wand, but it was no use. Both his wand and the scissors he had been holding lay on the floor, and he was bound securely. There was not much he could do but wait and hope someone…anyone…came this way and found him.

It wasn’t as if he hadn’t unwittingly set this chain of events in motion, anyway. All he had wanted was a small clipping of mistletoe. Draco had plans that involved a certain curly-haired witch, and he had decided that the mistletoe would be the perfect thing to help move their relationship to the next level…or so he’d hoped. He groaned at his misfortune. He was hoping to catch her before she left for the holidays. If he missed this window, he wasn’t sure when he would get his nerve up to take another chance.

____________________

_Four months ago - late August_

Draco had been by this door a number of times already, trying to get a glimpse of the new occupant of the Transfiguration classroom, but also trying not to be seen. He didn’t want to seem eager, but he didn’t want to seem rude or aloof, either. It was important that they start off on the right foot. There was too much history between them — too much bad blood. He chuckled to himself at that thought…pun intended. He took a deep breath and then peered around the partially open door.

“Welcome back to Hogwarts, Professor Granger. Is there anything I can help you with?”

Hermione glanced up at him from an open box, looking a bit flustered. Her hair was showing every bit of the frazzled that she probably felt — settling into a new role in a new place — but, of course, she wouldn’t want others to know that, “Thank you, Professor Malfoy, I believe I’ve got everything I need.”

He had been hoping for an opening, but there was none. Of course, she wouldn’t need his help. He was foolish for even thinking so. After all, this was Hermione Granger, Brightest Witch of Her Age, and even if she wasn’t, he was Draco Malfoy, reformed Death Eater and someone who had been a general asshat to Hermione for most of their lives. He groaned silently and started to retreat.

“Actually, Professor Malfoy…”

His heart started beating again.

“I could use some help unpacking these books.”

Books. Yes. Books were safe. Books were straightforward. Draco turned back towards the witch, crossing the room and taking out his wand.

“Oh, no. You won’t need that,” she exclaimed, eyeing his wand in his hand. “These books are the most important to me. I only pack and unpack these by hand.”

He frowned. That made no sense.

“I understand if you don’t want to…” Hermione started.

Draco must have hesitated a moment too long. “Nonsense, Granger,” he said, pocketing his wand once again. “I offered to help, and help I shall.” 

He turned to the task at hand, bending over to open one of the boxes.

She had so many books of so many different kinds. He marveled at the number of them as they were finishing unpacking the last box in her office. Along one entire wall sat Hermione’s personal collection. He stood back admiring the work they had done, and she put her final touches on the order of her books.

“You know, you could open up a library, Granger.”

“Honestly, is there such a thing as too many books?”

Draco chuckled at that; it was exactly what he expected her to say. “No. I suppose not. However, while I admit that I’ve read some Muggle literature, most of these titles are new to me. If you are willing to lend one, what would your recommendation be?”

Hermione seemed to note some surprise at either his admission or his request, but it was quickly covered over. “What interests you?” she responded, “What I like isn’t as important as what you might like.” She turned her head to consider the books on her shelves, fingering a title here and there as she considered what he might enjoy.

“Ahh…but the choice of book says just as much about the one it is selected for, yes?” he said, leaning over to see what she was considering. He took one look and pulled it out — it was well worn. It would be all the more interesting to read, if she had read it often. “Well, alright, then…Northern Lights, it is.”

____________________

_Present_

The castle was quiet. Much quieter than normal. The students had already headed home for the winter holidays. Draco had volunteered to do this set of rounds for Professor Sinistra, as she had been hoping to get a head start on her travel plans — a trip to Egypt, just in time to see a rare convergence of planets from the top of the Great Pyramid. She had been eager to say goodbye to the last of her students, so she could head off herself.

It was as he started his rounds that afternoon that inspiration had struck him — his rounds would take him past the greenhouses and there he was sure to find some mistletoe. The last thing he would need before he could set his plan in motion. Draco doubled back to his quarters to get the necessary supplies and set off once more.

As Draco entered the first greenhouse, he found what he was looking for — a vigorous patch of magical mistletoe. He pulled out the scissors to cut a sprig, but as he fingered the plant and brought the shears near it, all of a sudden, he felt something grab his waist. He looked down to see a vine coiling around him and another curling around the wrist of his hand, deftly removing the scissors from his hand. What was going on? Draco struggled against the plant to no avail. When he used his free hand to reach for his wand, another tendril wrapped itself around that hand and his wand fell to the floor, landing where it wouldn’t do him much good. The vine continued to contort him until he was stuck securely against the wall.

Draco stopped struggling and the vine stopped tightening. When he had caught his breath, he tried to move his arms but found that he had effectively been immobilized. Exactly what was going on and what type of plant was this? He took a look down and noticed that, while it had resembled mistletoe at first glance, a closer glance showed him that the plant’s structure was slightly different and its color was more intense than the typical specimen.

No matter at this point. His immediate interest was in getting free, not cataloging a new horticultural find - that was Longbottom’s job. Draco wondered how long he might be in this position and who might realize he was missing, if he wasn’t able to get himself down. Given most of the staff who had not already left were in the process of leaving at this point, he realized he didn’t have many options.

____________________

_Four months ago - September 1_

The entire school was gathered for the opening feast and the students had been stunned to see that their new professor was none other than Hermione Granger, member of the Golden Trio and celebrated war heroine. While the war had been over for some time now, and none of the current Hogwarts students had been at school during that time, the scars of the Second Wizarding War had not completely faded across wizarding society. But those of Draco’s generation — those who actually were embroiled in the bitter divide — they were the ones who had needed to make sense of things. Right after the war, he and so many of his generation had all seemed lost together. Thankfully, in the aftermath, there were no houses to separate them and the lines that had been drawn for them when they were only children seemed much more arbitrary and less inviolable.

It hadn’t been easy for Draco over the past seven years. While his personal Gringott’s account wasn’t hurting, most of the Malfoy family’s assets had been forfeit after the war. But galleons only went so far. In the years after the war, after finishing school, Draco found it was purpose that he was seeking. He sought to make sense of how he had been raised and, more to the point, how to atone for his own actions. Coming back to the castle had been part of that, and he was grateful that Minerva McGonagall had given him the opportunity to teach at Hogwarts. When he heard that Hermione Granger had agreed to take the Transfiguration post, he wondered what was bringing her back to Hogwarts — whether she needed to make sense of things, just as he had. But, Draco realized what was most important to him was a chance to make things right — to show that he was no longer the arrogant, elitist boy he had been. He knew how difficult his words and actions had made her time in school. It was one of his greatest shames that Hermione had been tortured in his house — that the very word he had thrown about trying to making himself seem more important had been etched into her arm as he stood by, his head filled with her screams. No, there was nothing Draco could have done in that moment but that didn’t make it any better.

As the headmistress rose to give her opening of term remarks, Draco glanced down the table, looking at his new colleague. He had seen Granger enough times to know that she didn’t particularly care for the spotlight — unlike her ex, Ron Weasley. In fact, most people couldn’t begin to fathom how critical she had been to their success. However, those who had known them or her, knew. They all would have been lost were it not for Hermione Granger. Heck, Potter probably wouldn’t have even made it through his first year, had she not been on his side.

She gave a wan smile and polite wave to all the smiling eager faces in the Great Hall at the end of the headmistress’s introduction and promptly looked back down, seemingly engrossed in some detail on the table.

____________________

_Present_

Draco’s mind wandered to thoughts of the Herbology professor as he pondered the strange plant that was holding him tightly against the wall. He was fortunate that he had made strides with Longbottom over the past several years that they had worked together - his mistreatment of the quiet Gryffindor during school was a close second to that of Potter and his friends. He wouldn’t say they were _friends_ but definitely they were comfortably colleagues. It certainly didn’t hurt that Draco did his best to support Hannah Longbottom’s (nee Abbott) Hogsmeade bakery whenever possible. Truly, she had the best cakes around and Draco, having the sweet tooth that he did, was never one to pass up a well-made dessert — that and the fact that he and Neville were the only two male professors currently at the castle that weren’t quite so long in the tooth meant that they worked together on a regular basis.

That had definitely made things easier when Hermione had arrived. She, Neville and Hannah were friends and the married couple made sure to include Draco from time to time, once it became clear that Hermione and Draco could coexist peacefully, if not amicably.

If only Neville were around right now, Draco thought, he would help him get out of this mess. But, he lived in Hogsmeade with Hannah, so the chance of him happening by on this — the first full day of the winter break — was not likely. He sighed.

____________________

_Three and one half months ago - mid-September_

It was a few weeks later when Draco showed up at Hermione’s door once again. This time, he found her bent over her desk grading essays. It had taken him longer to find time to read the book she had given him, with all the start of term activities. He cleared his throat to announce he was there. 

“So, you gave me a children’s book.” He regarded her with one eyebrow raised.

“Well, yes and no. I guess it depends on how you look at it. There are children who have read it, but I think the themes are much deeper than that.”

“Agreed.” Draco said. “Interesting about the daemons — almost like a mix between a Patronus and a familiar.”

Hermione’s face brightened, “Yes! I think that too, although clearly one is personal to the caster and the other is not.” She rose from her desk to put the returned book back on the shelf and turned to regard Draco once more. “Would you like the next one?”

“Next one?” he seemed surprised.

“Yes. And I think the story gets even more interesting. If you’re game…” She pulled it from the shelf, holding it out to him. He took it, interested to see where the story went.

It didn’t take Draco nearly as long to read the book and was back just a few days later for another installment. This time, the ensuing conversation about Muggle religion and theories of other worlds lasted for quite some time. Hermione made a pot of tea and the conversation continued.  As they discussed the themes of good and evil in the books, they also slid into conversation about the war — about some of the challenges they each had faced in trying to make sense of things after it had ended. It was a surprisingly honest conversation for two people who had been on opposite sides. During a lull in the conversation, Draco decided to take the opportunity to bring up what had been bothering him most.

“You know…that night at the Manor… I’m so sorry that happened. Please know that there was nothing I could do…” he hung his head and his voice trailed off.

“Of course there was nothing you could do! You were a child,” Hermione reached over her desk and patted his arm “We all were. But while you couldn’t stop her, you did what you could to protect Harry and I am grateful for that.”

Draco took small comfort from her words, but it was something.

____________________

_Present_

He wasn’t sure how long he had been here at this point, but nothing Draco tried seemed to make any difference. If he struggled at all the vine tightened, but if he stayed motionless, it simply held him in place against the wall. He couldn’t _Accio_ his wand, and he wasn’t quite sure what he would do with it even if he had it. He had tried a few wandless spells to no avail.

Draco’s nose started to itch and he scrunched it up, trying to get rid of the unwanted sensation. Unfortunately, the feeling only increased. He turned his head to the side, hoping to be able to scratch the growing itch on his sleeve, but he couldn’t move his arm to make it work. Just as he was just about to go crazy, a stray branch appeared in front of his face and rubbed against his nose, providing instant relief.

…That was odd.

____________________

_Two months ago - late October_

It was a Hogsmeade weekend which meant the professors had a bit of breathing room while the Head Boy and Girl did double duty, corralling the eager students in Hogsmeade with the help of the Prefects.

Draco was heading towards the Owlery to post a letter to his mother. He had just turned the corner when he heard a familiar voice call to him. “Heading out for a walk? It’s a gorgeous day.”

He turned to regard the speaker and smiled warmly, which would have taken almost anyone else aback — a smile not being an usual part of his countenance — but for her it was becoming more frequent. Hermione looked different dressed in Muggle clothes rather than her usual robes. She was wearing jeans with a pair of riding boots and a lightweight jacket with a scarf bundled lightly around her neck. The look suited her. Truly it was a beautiful day, he thought - a rarity for late autumn in Scotland, and it would be a shame to not take advantage of it. “Actually,” he said, quickly pocketing the letter, “I was. Fancy a stroll?”

‘Don’t mind if I do,” Hermione said smiling back at him as she slipped her hand around his proffered arm.

They walked along the shore of the Black Lake, talking about books and students and any number of subjects. Draco found Hermione easy to talk to. More importantly, he felt that he could be himself around her as she knew who he was and what he had done, and accepted him nonetheless. He also appreciated that she tended to be direct — unlike his former housemates. You knew where you stood with Hermione. He loved taking the opposite position — regardless of what he actually thought — just so he could see the flash in her eyes and the passion in her voice as she argued her point. Inevitably, he would concede and she would give him a smug, satisfied grin as she marked the point as hers. He suspected that she knew what he was up to but kept playing along anyways.

As the sun began to dip below the hills, the weather began to get a bit chillier. He cast a warming charm over them both as they headed back towards the castle.

Hermione looked up at him and smiled “Thank you, Draco.”

 _Draco_. It still gave him a thrill to hear her speak his given name. While in public, he was still Professor Malfoy but, when they were alone, she called him by his name. No sneer, no malice, just two people who — in spite of everything that had happened between them — were managing to become friends.

____________________

_Present_

He thought he heard a noise somewhere nearby — not footsteps but definitely the sounds of movement. He called out, trying to attract the attention of whoever it was. With his luck it would be Mrs. Norris, but he called out again in the hope that it wasn’t.

Ahh…he groaned, Peeves. Just as unhelpful as Mrs. Norris if he wanted to be. And Draco was sure that he would want to be…unhelpful, that is.

Peeves chuckled as he came across Draco’s immobilized form. He started with a chortle that progressed to full blown belly laughs as he realized Draco’s predicament.

“Peeves, I need your help,” Draco pleaded.

“You are in quite a pickle….this lass must be fickle!” The poltergeist looked amused with himself for his effort in rhyming. He started drifting back down the hall. “Now, what exactly was I up to?”

“You were about to go get someone to help me?” Draco supplied helpfully.

Peeves chuckled, “I think not. Ahh…yes. I was on my way to release some pixies in the kitchens. The elves, you know, I think they are quite bored already!”

“Peeves…” Draco said, a tone of warning in his voice. That was exactly what the elves didn’t need right now — to be chasing after pixies. “Do I need to find the Baron?”

Peeves turned his head and looked at Draco saucily. “Somehow, I don’t think you’ll be finding anyone anytime soon, now will you!”

And with a pop, Draco was alone once more. He yelled in exasperation. As if responding to his frustration, a tendril seemed to reach out and pat him on top of his head. Draco groaned. Fucking sentient plant. He never was a fan of Herbology anyways.

____________________

_Five weeks ago - mid November_

He was taking a walk through the castle late one Saturday night and found himself passing by her room. Draco couldn’t say he had planned to come this way, but he knew that his path had changed in recent weeks. Was he hoping to run into her? He wasn’t sure he could be truthful with his own answer.

As he passed near her door, Draco thought he heard loud noises coming from Hermione’s room. He froze - unsure what to do. His eyes wide and his heart suddenly racing, he took a step closer trying to decide what the best course of action would be. It sounded like there was a battle raging on the other side of her door but that was impossible — logically he knew it was. Draco figured he had better check on her. After all, if something untoward was happening, he wouldn’t want her to come to any harm, now would he? At least that’s what he told himself as he knocked on the door, trying to keep his voice from betraying the rising panic he felt.

“Professor Granger...is everything okay?”

There was no answer. A quick _Hominem Revelio_ showed only one person inside Hermione’s quarters…thankfully. He relaxed, not quite sure what he would have done if that had not been the case. Draco waited a moment and knocked again, and the noise quieted down.

Hermione opened the door, wearing what he assumed were pyjamas and she had her hair pulled up in a sloppy bun on her head. Were those actually little kittens printed on her pyjama bottoms?

“Yes?” she asked as she opened the door.

Draco was relieved but quickly schooled his features, trying to appear nonchalant. “My apologies for disturbing you. I was walking by and heard some loud noises. Is everything alright?”

“Oh…I was just watching a movie.” Hermione bit her lip, in that way that made his heart beat just a little bit faster. “Sorry, I didn’t realize it was so loud.”

A movie? He had heard of such a thing during his mandatory Muggle Studies course but here at Hogwarts? How? She grabbed his arm and pulled him inside.

Somehow, Granger had what appeared to be a telly…a television in her quarters. That explained the _what_ …but that doesn’t explain the _how_. Only Hermione Granger would have charmed Muggle technology to work at Hogwarts. He had heard about televisions but he hadn’t seen one in person before.

“It’s a really exciting part. Here, sit,” she said, pushing him towards the sofa. Hermione settled herself on the other side and pulled out her wand. Waving it at a small black box, she muttered, “ _Ludio. Sonorous Reductus_.”

Instantly, noise and light filled the room. It appeared to be a huge battle, a group of humans against some odd creatures he hadn’t seen before. Draco was mesmerized by the pictures flashing on the screen in front of him in full color, but as soon as it started, the television screen was blank again. “Oh…l’ll need to start it from the beginning,” she exclaimed.

For his part Draco just wanted to see it work again. “No, I’m fine.”

“Draco, nonsense. You won’t understand what is going on unless you see it from the beginning.”

At her insistence, he settled in on the couch and she picked up the small black box and pressed some buttons.

All of a sudden she jumped up and ran into the kitchen, mumbling, “Oh…wait, we have to give you the full experience…”

He sat and looked around, taking inventory of her quarters, much like his but infinitely more comfortable and homey. She had a number of pictures on her walls, some that moved and some that didn’t and, of course, more books. Whereas his couch was bare, hers had colorful throw pillows and currently a fuzzy blanket was balled up on one side. Perhaps it had been hastily discarded when he interrupted her.

Hermione walked back in the room carrying a bowl of freshly popped popcorn. “And of course, it wouldn’t be the complete movie experience without this,”she remarked, plopping the bowl in his lap. She curled up on the other end of the couch and pulled the fuzzy blanket over her, flicked her wand once more and the movie began.

He was so engrossed in the movie that he barely even noticed her reaching over every now and again to grab a handful of popcorn. Eventually, she abandoned her side of the couch and moved closer to where he was — a better position for sharing popcorn and for providing commentary on the movie at appropriate points.

He didn’t leave her room until well after 1am. It was so late that he almost felt like a student sneaking through the castle trying to get back to his dormitory without getting caught. He had enjoyed the movie, and she promised to let him borrow the book it was based on soon. He begrudgingly agreed that there were some benefits to Muggle technology after all. That had been bloody brilliant…although he was still a bit confused as to why they depicted elves in the way that they had. Those were certainly not like any elves he had ever seen.

When the next Saturday rolled around, Draco received an invitation to see the next movie in the series and soon Saturday evenings became their unofficial Movie Nights, as they gathered to work their way through Hermione’s movie collection, first finishing the Lord of the Rings trilogy and then branching out to other genres. Hermione seemed to be pleased to have Draco’s Muggle film education squarely in her hands. She told him that, after the break, she was going to introduce him to James Bond and he supposed that as long as Hermione was there with him, he would be perfectly fine with that.

____________________

_Present_

This was getting old. He needed to figure something out. Exactly how long had he been down here? Considering himself to be thoroughly fucked at this point, Draco decided that he had nothing to lose by bearing his soul to his captor, seeing if it might listen to reason as it had known to take his wand and scratch his nose. Talking to a plant? This seemed like pure idiocy but what options did he have? He cleared his throat and began.

“So, let me begin by saying how sorry I am.” He groaned and was glad that no one was around to witness this. “I should not have tried to cut a sprig. I thought you were just a growth of mistletoe, but clearly you are more than that.” He paused, trying to gauge if there was any reaction to his words. “I only wanted it for a witch that I like. I’m hoping she likes me too, and well, mistletoe provides a good excuse for a kiss…”

This was stupid. What was he doing? He threw his head backwards and was surprised to connect with a small bundle of vines, rather than the stone wall that he was expecting.

____________________

 _Two days ago_  

It was the night of the Yule Ball. Exams finally over, it seemed everyone in the castle was using the opportunity to figuratively and literally let their hair down. While the professors were still keeping their eye on their charges, and ensuring no one slipped anything into the punch given they were heading home in the next few days, they weren’t keeping as close of an eye as they could.

He had spent some time chatting with his fellow professors as he made his way through the room. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits — both students and staff looking forward to the holiday season and the long break. To Neville’s delight, he had even borrowed Hannah Longbottom for a dance or two, giving her husband a chance to sit down and rest for a few minutes.

At one point, he looked up and saw Hermione across the room. She looked absolutely radiant in emerald green robes with gold highlights. She wore her hair down for the event, unlike her normal updo for teaching. But it wasn’t her dress that caught his eye. Draco was absolutely captivated by her face — the sheer amount of joy on it. He felt fortunate that he had seen this particular look on her face before; she was relaxed, enjoying the students around her and where she found herself at this moment. It was a feeling that he understood well. Right now, she wasn’t Hermione Granger, the war heroine or a member of the Golden Trio. She wasn’t on the cover of the Daily Prophet or having to give a speech. She didn’t have to carry herself in a certain way or act like something she wasn’t. Here, within the walls of this castle — at this moment — she was free to be herself, just as he felt when he was with her.

Draco watched her, entranced, and realized that he would no longer be satisfied with just being friends. He could no longer pretend his interest was only casual. However, he didn’t want to act unless he knew his feelings were reciprocated, concerned about damaging the friendship they had created.

He was kept busy throughout the night, especially as the older staff departed, relying on their younger colleagues to keep an eye on things as the dance continued late into the night. As the dance came to an end, and the Great Hall had been returned to its normal state once more, he saw Hermione ushering the Head Boy and Girl out the door with a promise to finish the few tasks remaining. It was just the two of them. They worked in silence and then, with a swish, Hermione extinguished the lights in the Great Hall and they made their way into the corridor.

“That was a long night,” he quipped. “At least I think everyone had a good time, and we managed to keep the punch free of Firewhisky and love potions.”

Hermione chuckled, “Indeed, although I did see a few seventh years with their own flasks and I wouldn’t want to have to check the common rooms right now.”

“Ahh, to be young again,” Draco responded with a smile. “Shall I escort you back to your room?”

Hermione looked up at him, a small blush staining her cheeks. “Thank you, Draco. I’d love the company.”

His heart started racing. He was more than a little nervous. All thought of small talk and pleasant conversation left his head, and he was reduced to nothing more than an obligatory nod of his head or “uh huh” as he responded to a question or comment of hers.

All too soon, they arrived at her door. He stepped back from her and cleared his throat, unsure what if anything he should do. Hermione paused for a moment, and then gave him a disappointed look as she opened her door and slipped into her quarters. He heard a small, “Goodnight, Draco” as she closed the door.

As he started down the hall, he replayed the moment in his head. A kiss…yes, he should have kissed her. Merlin, he was so out of practice with such things. And besides, he had been petrified that she would have said no. But maybe she wouldn’t have. And perhaps that was even more terrifying.

He paced the floor in his chambers, mentally berating himself for having missed such an opportunity. With students leaving and the break starting, he may not even have the chance to see her and rectify this situation — and that was simply untenable.

It was at that moment that an idea came to him and he sat down at his desk with his quill in hand.

____________________

_Present_

Click, click, click. Were those footsteps? Was he hallucinating now? No, surely those were footsteps. As Draco listened he thought he might even recognize whose footsteps those were. He closed his eyes, groaning inwardly at his luck. Anyone but her. He would even wait for Peeves to come back, just not her.

As the footsteps drew closer and stopped, he heard Hermione mutter “Mischief Managed” and then a small rustle of paper. He opened his eyes to see her stow something in her pocket and then look up at him.

“You hadn’t moved,” she said. “I was worried something was wrong.” 

He was not sure he understood what she meant but he was at least a little glad for the kismet, since he really, really wanted to get down from here. Although he definitely would have prefered if someone else was the one to help him.

“What happened?” she asked.

At that, he felt a rustle in his pocket and an envelope fluttered to the floor.

“Draco…” Hermione started, “did that vine just…”

Draco groaned and turned red, knowing full well what was now lying on the floor with his wand and with those damned scissors that got him into this trouble to being with. “It’s a long story. If you could just…”

His voice trailed off as Hermione bent down to pick up the envelope. “Draco, this is addressed to me."

He closed his eyes and squirmed to no avail. “Well…you can ignore it.”

“Why would I do that? What does it say?” She looked at him quizzically, turning the envelope over in her hands.

If it was possible, he turned even redder in that moment. “Please…just help me get down from here. Don’t worry about that.”

As if it had been asked, the vine reached out towards Hermione and slid a tendril under the flap of the envelope, opening it and then pulling back just a touch, as if to wait and see what Hermione would do.

She took out the paper and unfolded it.

Draco, having written it more times than he would care to admit before he considered it perfect, recited the words in his mind as Hermione read the note to herself.

 

_As the end of the year approaches, it is a common practice to take stock of one’s life — of the things that have made the past year meaningful or important, of the lessons one has learned. I still have much to learn but I do know that your presence in my life is one that I cherish greatly. I am thankful for our friendship, and yet, I wonder if there might be something more._

  _Granger, you are the person who challenges me and soothes me. Somehow, without me even realizing it, you have become an integral part of my life. And, as I watched you at the ball last night, I realized I couldn’t let you leave for the holiday without telling you how I felt._  

_If I’m right and you feel for me as I do you, meet me under the mistletoe and let’s see where this road may take us._

 

She looked up from reading the note and tilted her head to the side, studying Draco with her face perfectly neutral. He was absolutely mortified.

She took a step closer. “Well, I guess you are under the mistletoe, aren’t you?” she chuckled.

 “This isn’t what I meant, you realize,” he responded dryly, mortified to be in such a position. This isn’t what he had intended at all.

“But still, it is mistletoe…of some kind.” She stepped forward so that they were almost touching — well, they would be, were he not still tied up in this horrendous weed.

 She inclined her head towards his and met his lips with a kiss.

He greedily reached down and claimed her lips. All too soon she pulled away, and asked breathlessly, “Anything?”

He cursed internally from their loss of contact, especially since he didn’t have use of his arms to pull her back, but wait...he could at least wiggle them. That was a change.

“It seems to be a bit looser. Perhaps we could try again?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

She grinned and stepped closer once more. This time the kiss was more heated than the first, tentative one. He found that the longer they snogged, the more the vines unwound and retreated. When he had full use of his arms again, he grasped the witch in front of him, pulling her closer and cradling her face. He bit her lip and when she gasped, he took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside her mouth.

His heart soared as she reached her arms up to twist into his hair. The last of the vine released him and retreated to a spot closer to the greenhouse. At some point, they had to come up for air. They parted reluctantly — Draco carefully studying Hermione’s face while she gave him a small smirk in return. After he had retrieved his wand, he cast an isolation charm on the corridor so no one else looking for mistletoe would get caught in its clutches. He’d send Neville a note, _he_ would know what to do. He took Hermione’s hand in his and leaned down to kiss her once more, more than pleased with how things had been resolved.

“Um…if you don’t have plans…I’m heading to visit my parents for a few days,” she looked up at him with an expression he found hard to read. She paused and a wry smile grew on her face. “Do you want to come? There will be movies and popcorn, and they have a much bigger collection than I do.”

His heart soared. Little did she know, he would be willing to follow this witch right into Mordor, if she asked him. Muggle England should be far easier.  


**_FIN_ **

  
  


_Epilogue_

Neville was a bit confused as he read the scroll attached to the bottle of Ogden’s Special Reserve. It was quite an expensive bottle of Firewhisky, and more than one would expect from a fellow professor — even if that professor was Draco Malfoy. Besides, Malfoy had never sent him anything before.

_Neville,_

_There was a bit of a problem near Greenhouse 1. Rogue mistletoe, perhaps? No worries, I’ve erected a barrier in case anyone else wanders that way. I assume it will be waiting for you on your return. Just be careful, it doesn’t seem to like shears._

_In any event, happy holidays to you and the missus and cheers._

_D.M._

 

Neville groaned. Ah yes, a patch of hybridized Devil’s Snare had grown into some persistent mistletoe in that greenhouse. He thought he had cleaned out the last of it before he left. That would explain the note, but not the Firewhisky. Oh well, he decided to not look a gift horse in the mouth. He opened the bottle and found himself a glass. After all, it was almost Christmas and as Malfoy said, it would be waiting.

  


**Author's Note:**

> My prompt was *in a note left to be found - "...if I'm right and you feel for me as I do you, meet me under the mistletoe."
> 
> Huge thanks to LaBelladoneX for being my beta (and for generally being awesome)!


End file.
